Page 107 of Exes Don't

“Let’s get you downstairs.” Mack offers me his arm. I can walk, but it doesn’t feel great yet. Poppy, Noli, Collin, and Duke follow us out into the hallway and toward the elevator. We ride down to turf level and arrive with enough time to watch from the end zone as Anton takes a knee to end the game.

Confetti rains down from the ceiling. Everyone is screaming and hugging. Ned has his cell phone out. He’s got a massive grin on his face, and he’s spinning around in circles, capturing the moment. He spots me and waves, a giddy open-mouthed smile on his face. He’s become one of my new best friends, ever since I sent him the article on Anton. After I recovered from my surgery, we ended up working together to edit and revise it, and then Ned sent it to his contacts in the sports world. With Anton’s sign-off, we used my feature piece to explain how his role in Penwick was changing and what his hopes are for the future. The article went semi-viral, mostly because Anton is in high demand, but also because Ned insisted we include my role in saving him from Charles’s bullet and a bit about our love story too. Readers gobbled it up, and while the attention makes me slightly uncomfortable, I also think it’s really cool that my name is in the byline of the story about Anton’s life and future. If I ever decide to take my fiction writing public, I’ll already have some writing credits.

I grin at the scene in front of me, imagining exactly how I’d describe it in a manuscript. There’s a pile-up of players in the center of the field as River Foxes teammates embrace and shakehands with the team from Denver, who stuck with us in the first half and played well, but in the end were no match for our offense.

My chest is so full of pride I feel like my rib cage could crack open.

I stand gingerly, careful not to do anything to my leg that could set me back. My crew has formed a protective circle around me so no one accidentally jostles me.

Poppy is on her tiptoes. “I don’t see Anton.”

“I think he’s on the far side of the field.” Noli points into the mass of oversized men.

“It’s alright.” I smile. “He’ll find me.”

The TV network people bustle by as the stage where they’ll do the awards ceremony is being erected in our end zone. I spot Erin Thomas holding a clipboard and microphone.

I recognize the River Foxes’ GM from my initial meeting. That feels like a lifetime ago. The circumstances surrounding it weren’t ideal, but I wouldn’t change a thing. It led me back to Anton, and there’s nowhere else I want to be than with him, right here. Right now.

The crowd of players, their families, coaches, and reporters surge toward us, but then, in what feels like slow motion, the people part, and there’s Anton. He’s across the field, probably still fifty yards away, but his gaze is completely focused on me. He takes off jogging in our direction.

I’ve got a huge, goofy grin on my face, and Anton does too.

People are reaching out like they’re hoping to pat him on the back and trying to talk to him as he makes his way over, but he ignores them and continues running to me.

“Incoming,” Poppy squeals, but I barely register it.

He slows down only enough to scoop me into his arms without hurting me, and he spins me around in a circle, burying his head in the crook of my neck. I can’t do the oldwrap-the-legs-around-your-man’s-waisttrick, what with agunshot wound and all, so my legs hang straight down, dangling off the ground as I savor Anton’s embrace.

“You did it!” I lean back and look into his eyes. “You’re incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

“Wouldn’t be here without you.” He places a featherlight kiss on my lips. “How’s the leg? Stiff?”

“It’s perfect. I feel like I could run a mile on adrenaline alone. I can’t imagine how you feel!”

He shifts so he’s cradling me like a little baby. “Pretty darn good at the moment.”

“You can put me down.” I’m saying the words even as I’m nuzzling in. “You’ve got team stuff to do.”

“Nope.” He hugs me to him, and my heart warms. “Be prepared to have a very attentive boyfriend now that it’s the off season.”

“Sounds good to me.” I peek over his shoulder, where he’s still holding me off the ground. “Where’s the Lombardi Trophy? I’ve always wanted to see that thing up close. It looks so shiny on TV.”

He holds me closer and gazes into my eyes. “It’s right here as far as I’m concerned.”

I suck in a breath and laugh, because how is this my life?

Here we are. A prince and a spy. Or rather, an ex-prince and an ex-spy.

Somehow, we fit together perfectly.

This is the stuff they write books about.

42

Epilogue

Holland

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